Crime and Punishment in American History - Lawrence M. Friedman [132]
But the detective has “one palliative to his conscience”; the lies, the trickery, the falseness, the betrayal are all in the interests of “justice.” When all is said and done, he can stand erect as a “public benefactor.” The detective is the answer society gives to the problem of secret, mobile, complex crime. Only lies and shams can counter shams and lies. The detective is a master of unmasking. McWatters “can tell a rascal by a sort of instinct. A stranger to him is like a piece of coin in the hand of the skilful medallist.”39
The book gives many examples of this skill. New York was full of young men “of large appetite and small conscience,” who specialized in eating free at hotels. McWatters enters the dining room of the Metropolitan Hotel. He glances about the room with his “penetrative optics.” Aha! He sees Jack Vinton, “that most notable and audacious of non-paying hotel diners,” whose “brassy impudence” had “enabled him to pass muster, as a guest of the hotel.” Vinton, at twenty-three, is a “master swindler” with “the manners of a polished gentlemen.” But McWatters (“who, by the way, was in citizen’s dress”) saunters over and asks him, politely, if he was “stopping at this hotel,” and “Is your name registered?” “Registered? I never heard of such a name....” “You misunderstand me. Is your name on the hotel books?” They play cat and mouse, but Jack soon sees that the game is up. In desperation, he offers to pay for the meal, but McWatters is not to be put off. He “conveys” Jack to the Second District Police Court, “to answer this and other graver offences of swindling.”40
The incident shows the “histrionic” skill of the master detective. He had to be able to disguise himself, and to play many roles. Just as the thief “ingratiates himself among honest men in order to plunder them, so the honest man associates with thieves in order to frustrate their plans.”41 He can “read a man at a glance. He knows a bogus story from a real one.”42 But this, of course, was only part of the work of the detective. Much of it was less glamorous, and more scientific. The detective was also the official who used “scientific” methods in fighting crime. His acts of detection and unmasking were accomplished not only on the streets but, increasingly, through patient “detective” work—sifting clues, following leads, and (finally) making use of the fancy findings of the lab.ao
The nineteenth century also invented a new form of literature: the mystery, or detective story.44 In the 1840s, Edgar Allan Poe wrote “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” and two other short stories, which (in hindsight at least) gave birth to countless thousands of “mysteries.”45 In England, Wilkie Collins published The Moonstone in 1868, and Arthur Conan Doyle launched the greatest of all fictional detectives, Sherlock Holmes, in A Study in Scarlet in 1887.46 In the United States, Anna K. Green published The Leavenworth Case in 1878, sold an enormous number of copies, and launched a fabulous writing career for herself. By the end of the century, this form of writing was already amazingly popular—as it is to this day.
Each mystery story is unique, of course, but the form does observe certain conventions and regularities. In the classic format, the criminal (usually a murderer) is not exposed until the last chapter; up to that point, no one, including the reader, knows who he or she is. If, in fact, the reader has guessed who “did it,” the book has probably failed. The ending should be, if possible, a total surprise. The criminal, in other words, cannot be obvious; the